


All That We See or Seem

by Ellegrine



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Alpha Bruce Wayne, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, BAMF Jason Todd, Beta Dick Grayson, Blood and Injury, Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Dick Grayson is Robin, Gen, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Major Character Injury, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Never Repost My Work Anywhere, No Sex, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Omega Jason Todd, Omega Jason Todd Week 2020, Omega Verse, Pack Bonding, Pack Dynamics, Pack Family, Pack Feels, Protective Bruce Wayne, Protective Jason Todd, Sex Pollen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-10
Updated: 2020-04-10
Packaged: 2021-02-26 17:25:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23574001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ellegrine/pseuds/Ellegrine
Summary: Jason stills and then looks over his shoulder. Batman’s right there and Jason hadn’t heard or smelled a thing. It’s terrifying to realize how vulnerable he let himself become just to save Robin.
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne, Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne, Jason Todd & Dick Grayson
Comments: 64
Kudos: 926
Collections: Gen Batfam ABO, omega Jason Todd week 2020





	All That We See or Seem

**Author's Note:**

> The title comes from the following quote by Edgar Allan Poe: "All that we see or seem is but a dream within a dream."
> 
> Time is not the boss of me! This was written for Day Two of Omega Jason Todd Week 2020 for the prompt: First Heat.

A groaning-whimper sounds from behind the dumpster in the alley.

Jason Todd leans forward, far enough he’ll fall off the fire escape if his hand slips, and bites his lip when he sees the vibrant red and green costume. There’s no doubt about it; it’s Robin.

Word on the street is that Robin was fighting Poison Ivy alone because Batman was shadowing the police escort taking the Joker back to Arkham after catching him. And that during the fight Robin got cut up pretty badly. Poison Ivy’s thorn whips are no secret to Jason. It’s possible to observe and overhear a lot when people don’t pay attention to you.

He’s practically learned to be invisible since his mom died and he took to the streets.

If he wants to survive — and he does — then learning the safe places to hide and which restaurants will give him free food and who it’s okay to run errands for to get a little cash on the side were things he had to memorize. Which alleys are safe to enter? Which alleys must be avoided at all costs? Where are the mob enforcers on any given night? Which drug dealers are short-tempered and prone to violence?

Jason knows it all.

It’s basic self-defense. If he’s not armed with information, he’s easy pickings. 

And as awful as Jason’s life is right now: cold, lonely, hungry … it’s _ his. _

Jason climbs down from the fire escape and rounds the dumpster, his scent locked-down like Arkham never is. That’s another thing being homeless taught him. If he rigidly controls his scent, it’s almost impossible for someone to notice or track him. The Narrows are … _ fragrant, _ to put it politely.

This close, the copper-blood-pain is so thick in the air that it entirely covers the stench of the dumpster’s contents. That’s … not good. Not good at all.

“Robin?” Jason whispers.

Robin’s head rolls toward him and a whimper of pain spills from his lips. “B?”

Is Robin really so out of it that he’s mistaken Jason for Batman? Oh! It’s probably the complete control of his scent. But Jason’s not going to let up on that, not even to comfort and reassure Robin; it’s much too dangerous.

“No, I’m Jason,” he answers as he eyes Robin’s uniform. 

It’s ripped in a lot of places. Blood is still flowing from some of the wounds onto the asphalt. There’s a growing puddle of blood beneath Robin that’s spreading wider and wider. Robin desperately needs his wounds to be bandaged, but it’s clear from the fact he hasn’t done so that he isn’t able to do it himself.

Jason should help Robin.

He should _ save _ Robin.

Yet, the flickering light from the nearest streetlight sparkles like green emeralds off Robin’s uniform. Robin’s been doused in Poison Ivy’s pollen. If Jason touches Robin, he won’t have long before the pollen works its way into his system. Jason hasn’t spent years hiding his scent to suffer now. Because Poison Ivy’s pollen won’t care that he’s malnourished; he has the proper plumbing for it to work, and it’ll throw him into his first heat.

An Omega in heat with no Pack Alpha to protect him doesn’t get even an adequately ever after in the slums of Gotham.

He’ll be lucky to survive the night. And if he does, he will wish he hadn’t.

“B?” Robin slurs.

It’s lucky that Robin isn’t an Omega, or this would be even worse. Not even the overwhelming smell of blood would cover the scent of an Omega in heat. It’s even more lucky that Robin isn’t an Alpha, or this could go really wrong, really fast.

“No, I’m—”

“B,” Robin whispers, voice getting weaker; he tilts his head as if he’s listening to something.

Jason leans forward, careful not to touch, and sees a comm of some kind in Robin’s ear. Ah, so he’s not hallucinating; he’s trying to talk to Batman. That … that might solve Jason’s problem. There might be a way to save Robin _ and _ save himself.

With nimble fingers, he removes the comm from Robin’s ear and slides it in his own.

“Hang on, Robin. I’m on my way. Just hang on.”

The voice is protective and gentle and firm and unmistakably Bruce Wayne’s. Jason’s heard him speaking on the TV enough times to recognize the voice in an instant. Which means Dick Grayson is bleeding out in front of him. Dick Grayson, who also lost his parents. Dick Grayson, who found a way to keep living regardless. Dick Grayson, who smiles like there are good things in the world, even though it’s dark and painful.

Jason pulls off his shirt and rips it into strips. It’s not hard; it’s so old and worn-thin that it’s see-through in places. It’s not much, but it’s all he has with him. Everyone knows Robin’s uniform is some fancy weave. Jason won’t be able to use the cape as bandages. Not unless the bird-knives Robin throws around can cut through it.

“I can save him,” Jason states, making sure his voice is factual even as his hands shake. 

Robin groans softly in pain as Jason starts wrapping his wounds in the scraps of Jason’s shirt, pulling the makeshift bandages as tight as he can without ripping them. They’re a poor substitute for what Robin’s surely used to, but he doesn’t fight Jason at all.

Jason’s offering might be minimal — it’s definitely not quality pain-killers and clean gauze and sutures and everything else that’s available to Bruce Wayne’s son whenever he has the slightest need for it — but it’s the best he has.

Even if Batman says no, even if Jason suffers awful consequences, well, how did the saying go? No good deed goes unpunished?

Robin is called _ the Flying Hope _ in the Narrows for a reason. 

Jason will never forget the first time he saw Robin swooping by in the night and his mom smiled at him with tired eyes set in an even more tired face and answered, “That’s Hope flying by,” to Jason’s, “What was that?”

So no matter what it costs him, Jason can’t let Dick Grayson fall without a net. Any sacrifice is worth ensuring Robin heals to fly again.

Gotham needs all the hope it can get.

There’s silence over the comm, and then the voice turns vicious and growls, “Who is this? How did you—?”

“He’s covered in Poison Ivy’s pollen,” Jason interrupts, because Robin doesn’t have a lot of time left. Batman’s going to be too late. “If I save him, you keep me safe until the heat the pollen throws me into ends. That’s the deal. Take it or leave it.”

Jason swallows roughly as his hands start sparkling in the flickering light. He’s willingly subjected himself to Poison Ivy’s pollen without a guarantee of safety.

It’s the <strike> bravest</strike> stupidest thing Jason has ever done in his life. 

“I don’t make deals with people—”

“Who can save your pup’s life?” Jason interrupts as he puts pressure on Robin’s left leg. It’s not a deep wound, but it’s still bleeding like crazy. The blood on his hands is warm and wet. Jason’s terrified it’s going to stop coming out, that Robin will be dead on the ground, just like his mom was dead on the floor of their crappy apartment, unresponsive to Jason’s touch and voice.

“B,” Robin whimpers, before a whine spills from his lips as Jason pushes down harder, trying to stop the blood flow.

“Are you hurting him?” Batman demands, Alpha timbre so intense it makes Jason straighten his spine instinctively.

Jason winces as he feels the first flicker of heat in his belly. No. It’s too soon. Even for a Poison Ivy special, that’s too soon. It can’t have been more than three minutes!

Robin scents the air and curves toward Jason, shoving his face against Jason’s lower stomach and snuffling. He whines and nuzzles closer. Jason fights the urge to pet Robin’s hair and offer comfort, but he fails. Which means he has to press down even harder with his small, slippery hand to keep as much of Robin’s blood in his body as he can.

“I’m waiting for your answer. What’s it going to be?” Jason asks. 

It’s so hard to keep his voice firm, so hard to suppress the urge to croon soothingly at Robin, to let Robin know he isn’t alone. 

He wants to snuggle into a nest and let Robin curl around him. He wants to pet Robin’s hair and purr for him until Robin falls asleep. He wants to keep Robin in his nest until Robin’s all healed up and it’s safe for him to leave.

And—

_ Jason doesn’t even have a nest. _

If he did, it wouldn’t be worthy enough for the Flying Hope. It just wouldn’t.

“Deal,” Batman says from right behind him, voice echoing oddly on the comm.

Jason stills and then looks over his shoulder. Batman’s right there and Jason hadn’t heard or smelled a thing. It’s terrifying to realize how vulnerable he let himself become just to save Robin. But, hell, Jason doesn’t regret it. Not one bit.

He shivers and Batman drops his cape around Jason’s shoulders. It’s so heavy. For some unknown reason, it makes Jason feel safe for the first time in years.

“I ran out of bandages,” Jason says, because that’s what will be important to <strike> Bruce Wayne</strike> Batman. 

Jason yelps at a sudden sting in the side of his neck. “What the—?”

“Antidote,” Batman explains as he kneels on the ground and pulls bandages out of his belt. 

“Will it stop my heat?”

“No,” Batman says, “but it will let you keep your mind during it.”

As he starts wrapping the remainder of Robin’s wounds, Jason feels guilt well up inside him. He hadn’t even thought of checking Robin’s pouches for bandages. He’s so used to doing without that — even knowing how Bruce Wayne dotes on Dick Grayson — he hadn’t realized exactly what it would mean for Robin to be in Batman’s care. Of course Batman wouldn’t send Robin out without clean bandages in case he gets injured.

What … what if Jason actually made things worse using his shirt? It’s not like Jason has constant access to laundry machines.

“You did good, pup,” Batman says as he scoops Robin up in his arms.

Jason breathes deeply and gags at the old-pennies-and-pain taste that fills his mouth. He turns his head and spews the very little food he’s managed to scrounge up that day. He goes to wipe his mouth, gets a whiff of the fresh blood on his hands, and dry heaves. It hurts. 

It’s something of a surprise that Batman doesn’t leave while Jason is sick. 

“Can you stand?” Batman asks, voice gentle again — all Bruce Wayne.

“Of course,” Jason grits out as he pushes himself to his feet. He wraps Batman’s cape more tightly around himself, figuring Batman’s used to blood being on it. “If you can’t stand in the Narrows, you’re as good as dead.”

Heat races through his veins; his lower stomach cramps horribly. Jason bites his tongue to keep in the moan of pain. He’s unable to stifle the shudders that overcome him.

“I can’t smell you at all,” Batman says; he sounds extremely impressed.

A small smirk appears on Jason’s face; he’s proud of that accomplishment. He worked his butt off to make it possible. But it falls right off his face when he realizes that’s all about to change. No Omega, no matter how skilled, can hide the scent of heat.

“Did you really mean it?” Jason asks.

“I keep you safe until your heat ends and you save Robin. That was the deal, right?” Batman looks away from Jason to stare at Robin’s shallow breathing where the pup is nestled in his arms. “You kept up your end of the bargain. I’ll keep mine.”

Jason almost says “thank you,” but he doesn’t. It’s not safe to put yourself in someone’s debt in the Alley. So he merely jerks his head in a sharp nod.

“We need to go, pup,” Batman says.

So Jason follows Batman to the Batmobile two blocks over. Jason still has no idea how he didn’t hear its engine as Batman raced to save Robin. It’s even more stunning up close than it is from the few times he’s seen it afar. He runs a hand over it reverently before climbing inside at a gesture from Batman.

Jason’s breath catches in his throat when Batman sets Robin in Jason’s lap; Robin turns his head and nuzzles right into Jason’s throat. “Are you sure?” Jason asks, because everything about the Alpha’s body language says he would literally rather be doing anything else in the world than letting Robin go.

“He’ll get medical attention faster if I can focus on the road,” Batman says, before starting the Batmobile and tearing through the streets. 

The lights speed past in a blur, and Jason wonders if this is what it’s like to race past stars in a spaceship.

“B,” Robin whispers, nose buried in Jason’s neck, “‘mega.”

Jason flushes. He’s never had anyone at his neck like that before Robin did it tonight. It’s terrifying how much he loves it. His blossoming scent is soothing Robin, distracting him from his pain. Jason’s helping Robin, and that’s — it’s nothing big in the grand scheme of things, but it’s _ huge _ to Jason.

The cramping gets worse. So does the fire in his blood.

By the time they pull into a … cave-garage somewhere miles outside Gotham, likely on the Wayne Estate, Jason’s desperately grateful for the antidote Batman administered. Because if Jason had felt like this without being cognizant of his surroundings — well, that’s the stuff nightmares and true crime story documentaries are made of.

Batman gets out of the Batmobile in a rush and comes around to take Robin from Jason’s arms. He carries Robin towards what looks like a miniature hospital. An older man with graying hair is waiting, already in scrubs, supplies laid out on trays beside a bed.

“The showers are through there,” Batman calls back absently, gesturing with his head towards a doorway in the far wall. “Go ahead and clean up and help yourself to any of the clothes in the lockers.”

If this were anyone but Batman, Jason wouldn’t chance it or trust the offer. Everyone in Gotham knows exactly how Batman feels about people who lay hands on Omegas without permission. The last perp caught was brought in with both arms broken.

Jason enters the locker room and stares around in awe. The whole night feels like a dream, or a nightmare, or a nightmare-dream. It’s too good to be true and too awful to be false.

He folds Batman’s cape on one of the benches, and then kicks off his sneakers and socks. He strips down the rest of the way, leaving his clothes in a bloody pile. 

The water, when it hits his skin, is hot. It startles Jason into backing out of the spray. 

“Definitely not a dream,” he whispers before stepping forward.

He’s trying to remember the last time he took a shower with hot water. Jason draws a blank no matter how hard he tries. It’s been cold showers, when he dared to take one, for a long time now. The water sluicing across his feet is red-tinged. Jason grimaces and reaches for the soap in the cubby hole on the wall. He scrubs himself until he can’t smell even a hint of copper. Then he lathers up his curly hair with the shampoo and conditioner that surely belong to Robin.

“It’s not stealing if he gave me permission,” Jason reminds himself. 

Still, as he dries off with the top towel on the pile of them, large and thick and one of the softest things he’s ever felt in his life, Jason is wary about opening the lockers. What if he sees something he’s not supposed to? What if it upsets Batman? What if Batman changes his mind and throws Jason out?

It’s a vicious cramp that gets Jason moving again. 

If Batman does throw him back out on the streets now that Robin’s safe at home, Jason wants to be dressed when it happens. He pulls on socks, sweats, and a tee shirt from Robin’s locker; everything in it smells like him, well, what Dick Grayson must smell like at least. Jason has to pull the drawstring on the sweats as tight as it goes to keep them up. No matter how he adjusts it, the tee shirt slips off one shoulder.

He sneaks back into the cave — Batcave? — on silent feet. He knows it won’t make a difference. He’s flooding the room with Omega heat-scent: milk and honey, specifically.

Batman’s sitting in a chair before a massive computer. The screen has Jason’s picture up on it, along with his report cards from when he was in school, his hospital records, his parents’ death certificates, and more. It’s, honestly, probably as close to Jason’s entire life history as Batman could access on such short notice.

Jason feels exposed having his whole life on display like that. He wraps his arms around himself and tries not to think about his life being nothing more than concise, factual reports that are stripped of color and emotion. As if he’s statistics and transcripts instead of a living human being.

“So what’s the verdict?” Jason demands. “Are you keeping your end of the deal, or did that change your mind?”

“I want to make a new deal,” Batman says.

Jason squeezes his eyes shut and tries not to cry. His heart aches and he hunches over as the cramps worsen. _ Of course _ Batman wants to make a new deal. Why wouldn’t he? He has all the power now that Robin’s safe.

The chair spins around to reveal Bruce Wayne in sweats and socks.

Bruce’s lips quirk up on one side. “You don’t seem surprised.”

Jason’s confused about what’s going on, but that doesn’t stop him from scoffing, “Any Gothamite who can’t recognize your voice isn’t worth the fear gas they breathe.”

Bruce laughs, delighted and loud.

Jason stares in awed silence. He … he made Batman laugh. _ He _ made Batman laugh. 

“Just when I thought this day couldn’t get any more surreal,” he mutters.

The fire aches and a particularly harsh cramp stabs pain through him. Jason twitches and can’t stop the gasp that spills from his throat. Before he can recover from the pain, Bruce is at his side, offering him some pills and a glass of water.

“I can’t,” Jason rasps. 

After what happened to his mom, he hasn’t taken a single pill. He just … he can’t. Even knowing <s>Batman</s> Bruce Wayne would never give dangerous drugs to an Omega-Pup, Jason won’t — _ can’t _ — take them.

Bruce stares at him thoughtfully for a moment, glances back at the computer, and then walks away. He sets the pills and water down and opens a chest-cupboard of some kind. When he turns around this time, he has an ice pack in his hands. Jason takes it gratefully when the Alpha returns to his side.

This time he doesn’t hold back his quiet “Thanks,” because Bruce didn’t have to offer him anything to help with the pain in the first place; that wasn’t part of their deal. And for him to have provided a second option when Jason refused the first … that’s so unlike any other Alpha Jason has ever met in his life.

“You’re welcome.”

Jason breathes a sigh of relief as the cold starts to numb the pain slightly. His muscles are still painfully tight, though, as he remembers Bruce’s words: _ I want to make a new deal. _

It’s best to bite the bullet and get it over with. The suspense is just going to make things worse; it _ always _ makes things worse.

“What’s the new deal you want to make?”

Bruce’s face is solemn, even as his blue eyes smile, as he says, “Let me adopt you and be the Wayne Pack Omega.”

_ “What?” _ Jason shakes his head, sure he’s hearing things, but no other words replace them. “The antidote must not be done clearing my head. What’s the new deal?”

Bruce’s scent goes sad-soft-caring as he says, “Let me adopt you and be the Wayne Pack Omega.”

Jason blinks rapidly, but it doesn’t stop a traitorous tear from spilling down his cheek. He doesn’t — “I don’t understand.”

Crouching down, Bruce puts a hand on his shoulder; it’s firm, but not so tight Jason can’t slip out of the grip if he needs to. “You saved Dick, even though it could have ended very badly for you. You’re a brave pup, Jason. I want you to stay. I know Dick will say the same thing when he wakes up.”

“But—” Jason swallows roughly. This … things like this don’t happen to people like him. They just don’t. But Bruce smells like earnest-sincere-genuine and Jason can’t help but _ hope. _

“But?” Bruce prompts gently.

“That’s not a deal. I’m — I don’t have a side to fulfill.” It’s all Jason can bring himself to say as his thoughts spin and whirl.

Bruce quirks that little half-smile again. “Sure it is, pup. I adopt you. That’s my side. And you agree to be the Wayne Pack Omega. That’s your side.”

“That’s not a deal! That’s not how a deal works. I … I get every benefit in that deal and you don’t get anything.” Jason’s voice starts as a roar and ends as the barest of whispers.

“I disagree, pup,” Bruce says. “A son, a little brother, a Pack Omega to, hopefully someday, love us and care for us? Sounds to me like Dick and I get every benefit in that deal.”

Jason’s mouth opens and closes soundlessly as he processes Bruce’s words through the pain of the worsening cramps. He knows, instinctually, that his first heat will hit hard and fast soon. And he wants to be somewhere warm and safe — _ a nest, he wants a nest so, so badly _ — when it hits.

Bruce brushes the tear off Jason’s face with a rough thumb and asks, “I want to get you to the Pack Nest before your heat hits, pup. Do we have a deal?”

It’s never been so difficult to voice a single syllable in Jason’s entire life. Finally, he manages it.

“Deal.”


End file.
